Chasing the Sun
by Rocksalt Rifle
Summary: Something had changed. Neither of the brothers were sure what that was. Supernatural/Fullmetal Alchemist
1. Chapter 1

Ed woke with a start. He was battle-ready in an instant, even before he was fully awake he was scanning the room for danger, pumped full of adrenaline. No danger was forthcoming, so he relaxed his grip on the knife tucked under his pillow and sat up, one hand running through the bangs clinging to his cheeks with sweat.

What had disturbed him? Something still felt wrong - there was something off about everything and his inability to pin down what was strange was keeping him on edge. "Al?" Ed's voice was hoarse in the darkness of the room. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and glanced around, as if seeing the room for the first time.

"What is it?" Al's voice came from the other side of the room and Ed turned - there was Al, sitting at the tiny table tucked in the corner of the motel room, lit from below by the laptop screen. Al frowned at him. "Ed, what's wrong?"

Unexpectedly, Ed's gut twisted. Something was wrong and he had no idea what it could be. Something was wrong with Al, and it was _his_ fault but no, there was nothing wrong with him - he was sitting at the laptop, papers spread out around him while he researched the patterns that had brought them to this small town.

Ed rubbed the heel of his palm into one eye and tried to shake off the feeling. Al in his arms, warm blood seeping through Ed's desperate fingers overlaid by the strange image of Al just, just _disappearing_ no matter how hard Ed tried to catch him. The desperation clung about him, and even now as the haze of sleep detached the feeling wasn't dissipating. "No," he said hoarsely. "Nothing's wrong, Al." He looked up at his brother, catching the quick dash of worry in his brother's copper eyes. "Where are we?" he added, glancing around the room. He really didn't remember falling asleep in a bed...

"A motel, Ed," Al said dryly, his attention falling back to his laptop now that it was obvious his older brother was just being, well, _Ed_.

"Shut up," Ed groaned, on hand flat over the side of his face. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, but everything was muzzy. "I remember some chick at the bar we were at, think she had red hair and a good ass and we were working on a third bottle of cheap tequila... _fuck._" That would explain the nausea. That would explain a lot of things, actually.

Ed stood up wobbly and tested his sense of balance. There was already a dull throb between his eyes, signaling the start of a nasty hangover. "What time is it?" He glanced over his shoulder for the clock.

"Too early," Al said, glancing back up at Ed.

"Did you even sleep?" Ed staggered toward the duffel that was thrown on the dresser. He growled in frustration at the fact that the bag of chips he bought two days ago was down to crumbles. "I'm hungry," he complained, crumbling the bag into a ball and flinging it in the general direction of the garbage can.

Ed lurched comically for the door, and Al started to get out of his seat but Ed waved him off. "I need some fresh air, I think I saw a vending machine by the business office. I'll be back in a few."

He could feel Al's concerned eyes on him as he staggered out the door, but didn't stop or look at him. He didn't want to deal with questions, annoying questions. He was fine - he iwas/i, he just couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, or wrong with Al, or wrong with anything. Ed swayed outside the motel's door, disoriented. The lot was full of cars, and he could see the bright neon of some greasy spoon over the roof of the opposite strip of rooms.

The more he looked around, the more disoriented he felt. This was _bizarre_, he'd never felt this out of sorts before. He'd been drugged, beaten, shot, hallucinated ... a whole wide spectrum of crap he never wanted to experience again and never once had he felt like _this_. If anything, it reminded him of the haze between sleep and awake but more ... stretched out.

The world tilted slightly but it was just Ed swaying, so he leaned back against the wall, fighting the nausea as it resurfaced. This wasn't a hangover, this was something else entirely. He was being swallowed by it and try as he might, if he thought hard on something the memories were muzzy but if he let them float to him they were crystal clear.

Al. Focus on something, otherwise you'll lose yourself. Ed closed his eyes and pressed the palm of his hand to his temple. The early morning was chilly, the thin undershirt Ed was wearing wasn't adequate against the cold and the hair on his arms were standing up.

Why was it that every time he thought of Al, conflicting images surfaced, cool metal, metal glinting in the moonlight, strange inhuman eyes.... Every time the image loomed in his mind he could feel the guilt as it welled up, starting in nausea in his stomach and building up until he couldn't swallow. None of it made any sense at all.

He heard the door to their room click open and he glanced up to see Al standing in the doorway, blurry-eyed and in need of a shave. Al yawned, scratching under his chin, his dark straw-colored hair almost brushing the top of the door frame. "You okay?" He was eying Ed with some concern. "I can run over to the diner and grab us some breakfast and coffee if you want."

"Sure," the word stuck in Ed's throat, and he rubbed his jaw blearily. "Find anything useful?" He wasn't surprised at the prick of stubble himself, he hadn't shaved in a few days. He'd take care of that in the shower later.

"Not really," Al grunted, stepping back into the room so Ed would follow. "No real leads on what's going on, no real useful information."

"'Cept a bunch of stiffs in the county morgue," Ed snorted.

"They all died the same way," Al said, stripping off his tee shirt and fishing around for a clean one. "Aside from that, nothing. Male school teacher, female college student, a grocer ... none of them related at all."

"Did it ever cross your mind it could just be a coincidence?" Ed asked, sitting on the bed. "Or just a real, human serial killer?"

"A killer who bleeds the victims dry without a puncture mark," Al said, dripping sarcasm as he grabbed his wallet and the keys off of the dresser.

"So it's a stretch," Ed said.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes," Al said, pointing a finger at him. "Ed? Don't go anywhere, seriously. You're acting strange."

"What are you, my mom?" Ed growled as Al shut the door behind him. "Bitch!" he called at the closed door. When there was no response, he kicked his feet out and flopped back onto the bed, glaring at the ceiling. "Freak," he muttered, hoping at least that the cracks running through the ceiling would agree with him. With no response forthcoming, Ed tossed his arm over his eyes and groaned, slipping uneasily back into sleep.

His dreams were not dreams, if he could ever really believe he dreamed after ... that. Red and black, they were full of splattered blood and wrought flesh, torn limbs and eyes, too many eyes. Flame and metal, chalk on concrete and blood, there was always so much blood...

Ed woke with a start when Al put a large hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. "Ed, are you sure you're all right?" Al's eyes were full of concern, and just a touch of suspicion. Ed's own eyes narrowed reflexively as he swung himself into a sitting position. He looked at the styrofoam boxes on the dresser and the cardboard cups full of coffee that probably had more in common with transmission fluid than anything stomachable. Ed shook his head a few times, trying to clear the images from his mind. He was aware the longer he let the silence lay between them the more questions Al would throw at him later.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly, grabbing at one of the cups of coffee and taking a swig of it, nearly gagging at the taste. The hot liquid helped, though, as it scalded its way down his throat. Focusing on the pain brought him back down to earth. He glanced up over the cup to see Al staring at him. He put the coffee cup down and stood up, stretching his arms out over his head. "I'm gonna take a shower," he said.

Al nodded, watching him before Ed paused in the threshold of the bathroom. "I'm going to head out," he said as he stood up. "I'm getting nowhere here, maybe a change of scenery. I'll give Bobby another call, I still haven't heard back from him," Al added, concern crossing his face.

"He's probably busy," Ed said, looking at himself in the mirror. Eyes bloodshot, scruffier than usual, hair hanging limp and greasy. He looked drugged out and for a split second his reflection looked different. Younger, longer hair. Brighter eyes, without the weight of years on the road and the burden of hell - Ed reached out to smack the glass barehanded and the reflection seemed to melt back to himself.

"Ed?"

"Go on," Ed grunted, not looking up and knowing that Al's lanky form filled the majority of the doorway. "I'll be fine. I just, just need to clear my head or something."

Al hesitated - Ed could tell he didn't want to go but he needed to. They were getting nowhere on this case and it was frustrating them both beyond all reasoning. Without a word Al ducked his head and vanished out of Ed's peripheral vision. Ed waited for the click of the door to rest his forehead against the cool mirror and close his eyes.

The shower hissed and sprayed, the water not hard enough to be useful in getting a lather. Ed stood with his head under the spray and tried to concentrate on getting his thoughts in line. This wasn't normal, he wasn't _like_ this. What had happened yesterday that had caused this? They had arrived in town, rolled in just as usual.

There was nothing strange or out of the ordinary in his memory of the last few days that would indicate tampering in their lives. Investigated the latest death, hit a local joint for dinner where Ed got a little too friendly with one of the waitresses and got a little too sauced and then they were here.

Ed focused on the task at hand. Wash his hair, shave, brush his teeth, don't think about things just do them. Scrub the grime and dirt off, run the washcloth over the raised mark on his shoulder and rub the soap into the few new wounds that hadn't quite closed or healed over yet. The mild stinging actually seemed soothing, it helped ground him and make the daze slowly fade away.

Showered, dressed and munching on a cold piece of bacon he felt much better. The sun was up now, and he dropped into the seat Al had abandoned, running over some of the notes his younger brother had made in the night. Al hadn't been sleeping and Ed felt like he slept too much, things that weighed heavily on his mind. Al seemed a stranger, far most distant than he had been. Before Ed ....

Didn't bear thinking about. Ed ran a finger down a page of notes, frowning. Al was right, nothing at all. Dead ends, all of them. Al was still doing research and here Ed was, left to pace the motel room and try to figure out the connection between these deaths and every bit of lore he'd ever collected. Nothing was clicking and it was frustrating.

Flipping through their dad's journal was equally frustrating, all signs pointed to something like a vampire but vampires tore out throats, tore out stomachs they left puncture wounds and evidence behind. Not bloodless corpses.

Aggravated, Ed flipped his cell phone open to call Al, but the call went straight to voice mail. Ed stared at his phone in confusion - they never turned off their phones, ever. It was a safety precaution so they could locate each other easily. He swore under his breath and shoved the phone into his back pocket, Ed stormed out of the motel room, barely registering that he should grab his jacket. The car was gone, of course - he'd known and even let Al take it - so he jammed his hands into the pockets of his coat and headed toward the center of town on foot.

He stopped by the widow of the school teacher, ran a few more leads down and kept busy the entire morning, the whole time keeping an eye out for the car parked somewhere on the road. Al probably went further than the center of this dinky town, but Ed had no idea what he'd be up to. The distance was just so vast between them. Ed paused on the street to look up at the November sky. It was a bright blue and sunny, even if it was bitingly cold.

Ed remembered ... playing in the leaves with Al, jumping in great big piles of them, laughing but at the same time he remembered cold winter afternoons in hotel rooms that stank of old cigarette smoke and musk, trying to keep Al occupied with cartoons on the old TV while he took apart and put together his gun for the fifteenth time.

The memories were too contradictory. He and Al had never lived in a house, not like that. They'd lived in homes, staying with friends for weeks at a time but ... Ed shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He glanced over and saw the Impala parked in front of a coffee house and snorted with relief. He headed in that direction.

Something made Ed pause and peer in the window before heading toward the entrance. There was Al, sitting at a small table with a handful of books at his elbow and laptop propped open. Seated across from him was a woman, dark-haired, nice curves...

Ed's heart felt like it froze in his chest.

_Ruby._

*

Al came waltzing through the motel room door. "It's a demon," he said when Ed looked up. "One of the ones that got loose from the Devil's Trap, I don't know what it's up to with all the blood it's amassing but he should be easy to track down."

"Yeah," Ed said heavily, not looking at Al. "Did your witch give you all the details?"

Al stiffened, stopped by the bed. "Ed-"

"I thought we had an agreement," Ed snapped, looking up at Al angrily. "We don't need her kind of help, Al!"

"I didn't ask for her help," Al snapped. "I'm not going to turn away good information, no matter where it comes from!"

Ed stood up, fist balled, and Al spread his hands. "You want to take a swing at me, go right the fuck ahead," Al spat right back. "She wants to help, Ed, she doesn't want the fucking apocalypse any more than we do, I don't know why-"

"She's a goddamned DEMON," Ed shouted. "I know you have a hard time getting this through your skull but she's a fucking demon possessing someone, you can't trust her!"

"Yeah but we can trust your pet angel, is that right?"

Ed slammed his hand flat on the table and shoved past Al, scooping the keys off of the dresser and stomping out the door. As the door slammed behind Ed, Al punched the wall, shoulders bunched tight. "Fuck!"

*

Ed didn't think, he just drove. By the time he had cooled down the car was close to empty so he pulled into a gas station on the edge of town to fill the Impala up. He never liked dealing with demons, to him demons were something to be exorcised, wiped from the face of the earth no questions asked, and Al used to be the same way. What had changed?

Maybe Al really wasn't all right. Maybe Bobby was right. Ed swallowed hard.

He leaned against the side of his car, looked up at the overhang that shielded him from the evening sky. They had a hunt, that was the first thing that needed to be dealt with. Deal with this demon, exorcise it, and then - then maybe once and for all close the book on this Ruby thing.

As he was getting into the Impala, his cell phone went off. Ed pulled it out and flipped it open without looking at it, by the ring tone he knew it was all. "Yeah."

"It looks like whatever the demon's ganking fresh blood for is supposed to happen tonight," Al said without preamble.

"What sort of ritual involves that much fresh blood? And for that matter, why suck it out of people like that, why not just hit a blood bank?"

"It has something to do with sacrificial victims I think," Al said. "I don't have the specifics, but whatever it's for is very, very bad - Ruby seemed to think it would take place in a church, and there are two in town. One's abandoned." He paused. "Ed?"

"Don't," Ed said. "I'll be there in twenty minutes to pick you up. We're going to put this bastard back where he belongs."

*

The demon, fortunately, was not hard to track down. She didn't seem entirely surprised that hunters had shown up on her trail, but her face lit with absolute delight when she realized it was the Elrics tracking her down. Ed and Al had walked completely into her trap. With one sweep of her arm she'd knocked the Colt out of his hands, throwing Ed back against the wall. Al had moved quickly, but she was faster than he was, striking Al a harsh blow that sent him back, head over heels.

Ed struggled forward against the invisible forces holding him back. Al was lying against the wall, blood seeping from the head wound the demon had dealt him. She hissed again, smirking like a cat before turning toward Ed, her eyes the color of coal.

This wasn't right at all, this couldn't be happening. Ed yanked at the invisible tendrils of power and something lit inside his head, he could see the energy and it wasn't same as the demonic power that was being used to bind him, but he didn't know how to grab it or harness it or what to do with it. "Bitch," Ed spat at her as she got close to him, dark eyes reflecting nothing, not even the light in the room. She grinned malevolently and her eyes shuttered back into some vestige of normalcy.

"Tsk, tsk," she purred, one fingernail like a claw on his cheek. "You Elrics are always so ... predictable."

Ed tried to jerk his head away. "I don't know what you want with us, why not just kill us and get it over with?" With her attention on his face he had managed to work his hand free of the invisible forces that were binding him and he was using the blood running down his arm. He didn't know what he was using it for, or drawing with it but he let whatever it was control the sensation. "Don't tell me you were behind those murders, 'cause if you were? Babe, you're a rank amateur."

She snorted, left a long scratch down the side of his face. Ed tried jerking his head away again and she hesitated, then her eyes widened. "How did you get-"

The energy that was crackling on the edges of his perception harnessed through the symbol he had drawn with his own blood on the wall. The wall itself shifted around him and shot forward, impaling the demon through the center of her chest. She was thrown backwards by the impact and Ed knew it wouldn't kill the demon, just her host. That didn't matter at the moment because the second the spike hit her he was free, dropping to his knees and dragging one torn sleeve across his forehead to smear the blood there and keep it out of his eyes.

She was already sitting up and he rolled forward, scooping the gun up from where it fell between them and drawing a bead before she could get her wits about her coherently. The demon stood up warily and glared at him.

"Try me," Ed gritted through his teeth, aim never wavering. "I will send you right the fuck to hell, bitch."

The demon shrugged. Then abruptly she arched backwards, her head cocking back as black smoke streamed out of the host's body. Freed, the demon dissipated into the night and the host crumpled to the ground, dead before she hit the floor.

Ed didn't move for a long moment, expecting the demon to possess another hapless soul and be back with reinforcements. One minute stretched into two, then five, and finally he shifted, legs cramping.

The wall was still in its strange position, honed to a deadly point where it had penetrated the demon's host. Ed knelt next to Al, checking him - he was fine, if bleeding, but Al had a hard head, he was already starting to stir. After checking the girl to ensure she was dead and there was no need to call an ambulance, Ed walked around the strange - thing - he had made the wall do. He didn't know how he had done that, or what even he had actually done. Ed crouched by the strange figure he had drawn in his blood - it looked almost like one of the seals they used to trap demons in the first place; but simpler. Al groaned and sat up slowly.

Ed glanced over at Al, then ran his hand through the blood, obscuring the symbol before it dried completely.

*

Al sat back in his chair, an ice pack balanced on his forehead and looking much the worse for wear. For once it was Ed with his head bowed over the table with Bobby.

"It looks like a seal from Solomon," Bobby had said right off the back. "But it's much too simple, there aren't nearly enough lines to it to do much of anything." He had turned and loaded Ed's arms with books, and they spread out all over any free space on the table, on top of already open books and half-finished notes.

The more Ed looked at the symbol, the more achingly familiar it became. Ed scowled at it, tracing the lines idly with a pencil while Bobby flipped through yet another book that was three times Bobby's age, easy.

"I've seen it before," Ed said, tapping his pencil against his scratch paper.

"Where?" Bobby didn't look up.

"Hell if I know!" Ed slammed his pencil down, aggravated. The only thing that resulted was the snapping the graphite out of the pencil. Ed swore colorfully, earning a groan from Al, and dropped the pencil on the paper. It lay across the symbol's design, little broken pieces of lead scattered around it.

Ed could see it again, at the edges of his perception. The strange blue flicker, almost like electricity but again nothing like it that he had ever seen. Carefully, Ed placed two fingers on the image itself and he could feel the flicker ignite, flow through his body and he imagined the pencil lead whole, not a piece missing. Ed didn't realize he had closed his eyes until he heard Bobby mutter a quiet "oh, hell."

When Ed opened his eyes, it was to see the pencil whole across the paper, and the symbol gone.

"What just happened?" Ed stared at the pencil in bewilderment, and then looked up at Bobby. Bobby shook his head and Ed narrowed his eyes. "Bobby, what just happened?"

Al had stood up, a look of amazement on his face. "Ed, what did you just do?"

"What did I do? I closed my eyes for a second, what the hell happened"

Bobby slammed the book open on the table, making the brothers jump. "It's an array," he said, poking a finger into the book, stabbing at it as if it could bite him. "It's a goddamned alchemy array, Ed, what the hell did you do?"

"An alchemy array?" Ed frowned at Bobby, about to say something completely asinine when the tickle in his head got louder, more insistent and then the flash of chalk scraping across concrete, chalk-covered hands blood splattered on walls eyes oh fucking hell the eyes-

"ED!" A hearty smack on the back from Al brought Ed back to himself in a hurry. Ed was curled up against the table; both hands on his head and eyes squeezed shut and watering. "Ed, fuck Ed are you all right? What the hell just happened?"

"I - Al, I don't know," His voice seemed hoarse to him. "There were eyes, so many fucking eyes and the blood-" He looked up at Al and there was panic in his eyes. "Al, I don't know what's going on-"

"Was it ... hell?" Al's voice had dropped to quiet, even though Bobby was privy to what had occurred.

Ed shook his head sharply. "No, this was different. Not better, not worse, just ... different." He swallowed hard and looked up, to see that Bobby was offering him a glass full of water. Ed took it gratefully and gulped it and the moment it was gone Bobby replaced the glass with a beer.

He let Ed recover, and picked up the pencil to inspect it. The pencil didn't seem warped or tainted, and as a test he wrote a line across a piece of paper, duplicating the array that Ed had doodled on his scratch paper. "Do you know how you did it?"

Ed shook his head. "I don't - it just, it just happened like it was waiting for me to put my fingers there and just will it to occur."

Al frowned at the book. "The alchemy that crazy doc was using didn't look like this at all," He snapped his fingers and pointed at Ed. "What was that - that image, in Dad's notebook-"

He duplicated the image without having to think on it, sketching it quickly on the page. "An ouroboros," Ed said. "The end is the beginning," he said, tapping the part of the drawing where the winged serpent devoured its own tail. "What about it?"

When Ed lifted his head to meet Al's eyes he was surprised at the amazement there. "I didn't expect you to remember that," Al said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm surprising myself," Ed muttered, taking a long swig of his beer.

"Do ya think you could do it again?" Bobby asked, leaning on the table.

Ed blinked. "Let's find out."

*

They spent the better part of the day in Bobby's junkyard, Ed drawing large concentric circles in the dirt with Al occasionally helping, adding lines and triangles and symbols that Ed suddenly etched in the dirt. Without fail, if Ed knew how it worked and with the right materials he could duplicate it.

"I don't know what to tell you," Bobby had said heavily when the set off later that evening. "I don't _like_ it, for damn sure. Keep out of trouble."

Two days later, Ed was laying flat across the bench seat in the Impala, both arms thrown up over his eyes. The sun was glinting off of various metal bits in the car and his headache had reappeared with a vengeance. He couldn't look into things that reflected, his reflection was wrong somehow.

Al was in the library. Ed had finally had enough and gone to lie down, since the librarian gave him dirty looks if he did it on the floor. They'd been at it for hours upon hours, but there seemed no logical connection or reason for Ed to have suddenly developed the ability that alchemists spent lifetimes pursuing. Transmutation, the literal mutation of things using a focused energy that Ed couldn't put easily into words. It didn't make a lick of sense to him and yet somehow he knew how to do it, how the figures worked and how the symbols harnessed the flow of energy and how to direct it to do exactly what he wanted.

There had to be some way to summon the damn angel, the same way there was a way to summon demons, but Ed was tired of research. His eyes ached from staring at small writing against yellowed paper, tightly knit scrawl printed in hand-bound pages. It wasn't worth it, the prick would show his neck whenever he damn well felt like showing up - and not a moment beforehand. Probably once they got closer to a seal.

When Al knocked against the window above Ed's head, he managed not to crack his head on the steering column. Instead he lifted one wrist off his eyes and glared. "Any luck?"

"None," Al said as he opened up the passenger side door. Ed sat up obligingly, rubbing his eyes against the glare of afternoon sun and scooting over, leaning both arms against the wheel. "Wonder-fucking-ful," Ed groaned. "I can deal with demons and seals and even the stupid apocalypse, I just wish the freaky shit would leave me the hell alone."

Al shrugged. "Everything I could find on it confirmed what I'd dug up before when we were dealing with Benton - it's not a magic at all, so we don't have to worry about you accidentally auctioning off parts of your soul to demonic forces or anything. It's all based in a very strange, very archaic science."

Ed grunted, turning the key in the ignition. "Still fucked up," he said. "But I guess I can deal. There are worse situations to be in."

There was no response from Al, so Ed glanced at him with a frown. Al shrugged again when he saw Ed looking at him, and leaned back against the seat. "I've got nothing. We lost the demon that was responsible for the string of deaths, there's nothing left here. Where do you want to head to?"

Ed hesitated, leaning both arms and then his chin on the steering wheel. The sunlight glimmered off the blacktop but didn't give him any answers; any leads that he could think of. "It wouldn't have gone far," Ed said thoughtfully. "We could still track it-"

"How?" Al sounded derisive and Ed glared at him. "What, you want to go around town and '_Christo_' everyone we meet, Ed?"

"It's an idea," Ed said defensively. "Besides, the demon wasn't working alone. The things she was drawing in the blood weren't summoning symbols, it was some sort of binding, sealing deal."

Now Al hesitated. "Sealing? What would a demon want to seal?"

"See?" Ed said. "There's still work to do here."

"The demon you seek is no longer in this town," Castiel said, seated in the back seat.

"JESUS!" Ed jumped, and Al jerked out of his reclining position. They both turned simultaneously to stare at the angel.

"Blasphemy," Castiel said mildly, looking unperturbed.

"What the hell are you doing in my CAR?" Ed yelped, never minding the fact that he was wishing for a way to summon the angel not ten minutes prior.

"You need to head west," Castiel repeated, sidestepping the question and leaning back in the seat, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

"What's west from here?" Al asked.

Ed shook his head. "It's gotta be another seal, isn't it?" Castiel nodded mutely, and Ed muttered under his breath. "Thought so."

"Too many seals have already been breached," Castiel said warningly. "We can't afford to lose another one."

"Yeah, yeah." Ed waved his hand in the air. "So the little ritual we interrupted the demon doing, does that have to do with the seal as well?"

Castiel shook his head. "That demon in particular is a follower of Azazel and had no particular vested interest in Lilith's crusade, but regardless it did strike out toward the seal as well." The angel's striking blue eyes pinned Ed. "There is a great significance in this seal, in particular to you."

"Does it have to do with this alchemy shit that's been popping up?" Ed shrugged his shoulders loosely. "Because, really. What's up with that?"

"Alchemy?" Castiel's brow furrowed in consternation. "Tell me."

Ed exchanged glances with Al, who shrugged back. Ed told him from the point the strangeness started, leaving out significant details like his inability to remember his brother's name some days and the reflection thing, which was really starting to get on his nerves. Castiel absorbed this and nodded shortly. "Do not utilize this ... power," he warned. "We do not know where it originates from."

"It's not a magic," Ed said. "It's science," he looked over at Al, who nodded as well.

"It is science," Al said. "It deconstructs matter down to its simplest form and reconstructs it-"

"What energy is used to create such a transformation?" Castiel looked between the brothers. "Do not use this power until we discover its true nature," he warned. "I will investigate it. In the meantime, you two should head west. You will know when to stop."

Ed opened his mouth to protest further but he blinked and Castiel was gone. Ed growled something utterly obscene and blasphemous about meddling angels and Al wisely ignored him; Ed started the engine and shifted the car out of park. Without a word they drove off.


	2. Chapter 2

Nothing for days but long stretches of highway, the sun beating off the blacktop for miles on end as the harsh November air got slowly warmer. Small towns, dusty motels and backwater diners blurred together as quickly, and they never stuck around in a town more than a day. Paranormal activity was nothing new, lay to rest a ghost here, break some kind of curse there, but there was nothing that spoke of a seal, nothing that seemed out of the ordinary even by host-from-hell standards.

Ed did all the driving; he wouldn't let Al behind the wheel now that he had his car back. Driving calmed Ed down, even when he glanced into the rear view mirror and caught a reflection that didn't quite match his own. Al on the other hand kept up with the research; keeping in constant contact with Bobby, always looking for more information, more leads. There was nothing substantial to go on; it was like anything in their path was being cleared for them.

They ran across a hunter as they crossed the state line into Texas; a dark-haired Asian man who regarded the brothers with a cautious eye. They didn't exchange names or pleasantries - the name Elric was too well known in hunter circles at the moment - but helped the hunter clear out a werewolf enclave that was plaguing the town. They parted ways quickly and continued onward.

The next town they stopped in for gas, and while Al was leaning against the Impala and watching the meter Ed made a pit stop. A bag of chips in hand, he paused in front of the newspaper rack, and then picked up a local copy, tossing it with the bottles of water and chips to pay for.

"Check this out," Ed said, tossing a water bottle to Al and flattening the newspaper on the trunk of the Impala. Al opened his bottle and quirked an eyebrow as Ed jabbed at the paper. "Fifth victim dies of asphyxiation in a week." Al leaned over to look at where Ed was pointing. "All normal, otherwise healthy men suddenly suffocate in their sleep? I don't think so."

Al nodded. "Doesn't sound like anything I've heard of before. Let's head into town and see what we can find."

*

Another motel, carpet worn so thin it was almost transparent in the lobby. Ed groaned as he jammed the key-card into the lock. This one didn't even make do with proper keys, it had decided to join the 20th century and use these stupid key-cards. The lock blinked at him mockingly, a little red dot standing between him and the room.

"Problems?" Al sounded amused.

"I can handle it," Ed growled, jamming the card in the slot again. The light still blinked red. He started slamming the key in and out quickly and Al sighed, shuffling his armload of their gear and forcing it into Ed's arms so he could take the key before Ed broke it in the lock.

Al opened the door on the first try.

"I don't wanna hear it," Ed announced as Al smirked at him, holding the door open illustratively. "Fuckin' keys," he snarled, dropping his gear on the bed closest to the door and looking around.

For once the motel was rather - plain. For being in Texas, Ed had seen many, many kitschy cowboy-themed cheapass motels. This one at least looked passable, if plain. Small table with chairs, old but not ancient TV; all in all, this motel was a slightly higher class than they were used to staying at. Thank god they paid in cash this time; they didn't have to worry about being evicted if their current credit card got flagged. Al put down the key-card and his own duffel on the dresser. Ed sat down and then flopped backwards onto the musty-smelling bedspread, frowning at the ceiling.

"Getting right to work, I see," Al said, turning to see Ed sprawled out all over the bed.

"Fuck you," Ed said without lifting his head.

"Where do you want to hit first?" Al asked, flipping on the light and disappearing into the bathroom.

Ed shrugged and sat up. "The morgue's always a hot spot," he called. Remote in hand, he started flipping through the local cable channels. Nothing interesting or remotely good on, so he shut off the set and waited for Al to get out of the bathroom.

"FBI?" Al asked.

"Five deaths in one week, I would say so," Ed said. "Unless you can think of something better."

*

The town was small, but the coroner was a lot more thorough with inspecting the ID that Ed and Al usually flipped so casually. Ed didn't sweat near as much as Al did, he was confident in his work, and also confident that he could lay the man out cold if he did decide they were fake and tried to raise the alarm.

"You've had deaths like this in the past," Al said as the coroner gave up and lead them to the icebox. "A few years ago."

"Yes, it happened twice." The coroner shook his head. "The first victim was a friend - graduated with him, everyone thought his wife killed him until the second death." He shrugged. "The second victim lived alone and there was no sign of forced entry, so both cases were ruled accidental deaths and brushed under the rug."

He pulled open the drawer that held the latest victim, and Ed wrinkled his nose. This was always the least pleasant part, by a long shot. He'd gotten used to corpses in all states of decompose - you had to, in this line of work - but that didn't mean he liked dealing with dead bodies. "Cause of death was blunt abdominal trauma?" Ed asked. The body for once wasn't entirely maimed, but there was significant bruising on the upper torso, running down the sides of the body.

"On all our victims, yes." The coroner nodded, pointing out the bruising. "It's consistent with being crushed, although when found all the victims were in their own beds. Two died next to their wives."

Al leaned over the drawer and frowned, then moved and walked around it so he was behind Ed. "The pattern of bruising," he murmured, shifting his position again.

"It's very peculiar," the coroner agreed. "All the victims exhibited similar patterns."

"Any way we can get a look at the other victims?" Ed asked.

The coroner shook his head. "Sorry, they've all be claimed by family at this point - there's nothing that points to foul play that can be investigated so the bodies were released by the time this one was brought in." He tapped the pencil he was carrying against the drawer. "No, wait. The Daniel's kid - poor kid, just graduated high school this past spring - they haven't claimed his body yet, the family was out of town on a winter cruise and haven't got back yet."

"Can we see it? Every little bit of information helps," Al added at the coroner's dubious look.

"Sure thing, Agent Davis." He closed the drawer with the latest victim in it and led them further down the row, peering over handwritten labels and finally stopping at the drawer nearest the door.

As he put his hand on the drawer to pull it out, an intern opened the door to the room. "Doc! Your wife is on line two, pick up before she decides to come down here herself again!"

The coroner swore quietly to himself. "Uh, if you'll excuse me, Agent Davis, Agent Martin." Ed and Al watched him hurry over to the door, and then looked at each other. Without a word Ed pulled the drawer open.

The bruising was the same on this cadaver as well; purple and dark against pale flesh. "It looks ... it almost looks like someone was seated astride his chest," Al said quietly, pointing out the contusions. "But for the amount of pressure to kill - the rubs would need to be crushed, but while they're bruised none of them are broken."

"Well, they suffocated, didn't they?" Ed said. "Enough pressure should keep them from inflating their lungs, and it only takes a few minutes before they'd pass out." He frowned. "But to cause this bruising..."

"I think it's time we did a little bit of research on our victims," Al said. "See what we can dig up. You get a list of the next of kin; I'll call Bobby and see what he can find on, well..."

"Chest crushers?" Ed supplied helpfully.

Al shot him a withering look and Ed shrugged, heading for the door.

Once Ed had left the room behind, Al closed the drawer that held the Daniels' kid and looked around room. He opened the drawer that held the latest victim's body, pulling it just far enough out to look at the upper torso closely. The bruises were consistent with someone - or something - seated on the victim's chest, so why had no one made mention of it? Al closed the drawer thoughtfully and left the icebox.

He tossed a wave off to the coroner, who didn't look like he even noticed, huddled over a phone at the end of the hallway and arguing passionately into it. When Al exited the back room, he was presented with Ed flirting with the receptionist. She was giggling and glanced up at Al with a blush tinting her cheeks. "Duty calls," Ed said dramatically, winking at her.

Al rolled his eyes once they were outside the building. "Do you ever stop?"

"Got the list," Ed said, holding a piece of paper up between his fingers. "You get another look at them?"

"Yeah," Al shook his head. He pulled his cell out of the inside jacket pocket and this time Ed snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Thought you were gonna call Bobby before."

"No cell reception," Al said as Ed leaned against the side of his car and folded his arms across the roof. Al huffed at him, about to point out how dirty the Impala was and that they'd just gotten their nice suits cleaned when Bobby's voice mail picked up the line. Al left him a succinct voice mail about the information they had, and looked at Ed across the roof of the car. "You want to hit the library or talk to the families?"

"Fuck that," Ed waved his hand. "You are NOT dumping me on grief counselor duty by myself. We're both going."

"We'll get more done if we split up," Al argued. At Ed's stubborn expression he sighed. "Okay, look. You get your suit clean, I'll go check things out at the library and then we'll BOTH go check out the families."

Ed cocked his head in confusion. "Clean my suit, we just got them clean-" He leaned back from the car, and then looked down and it registered. "GodDAMN it," he seethed, trying in vain to wipe off some of the muck he'd just rubbed in to his clean dress shirt. Then the realization set in and he took a step back from the car, a look of horror on his face.

Al rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Clean the suit first, then the car," he said. "Let's head back to the motel, you can drop me off at the library after we get changed."

Ed was easier to wrangle out of washing the car than Al had thought, but it was because he was thinking. This was always a dangerous thing. Al watched him think the entire car ride back. It wasn't stewing, or even brooding - Al knew the traces either left on his older brother's face and this was neither. That worried Al more than the previous two options combined.

They got back with no difficulties, and Ed even let Al open the room's door without a fuss. Al watched Ed walk into the room, and as he closed the door he was about to ask what, precisely Ed was up to when to his surprise Ed gently clapped his hands together and crossed them over the front of his suit jacket.

It looked almost like a scattering of blue electricity as the muck separated from the suit and dropped to the floor around his feet. Al was stuck with his mouth open, question lost on his lips.

"Huh," Ed said mildly. "It did work. Wasn't expecting it to." He stepped out of the circle of dirt and kicked his shoes off as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

Al blinked, shut his mouth and said - rather calmly, he thought, all things considered - "Ed, what the hell?!"

Ed shrugged. "I... had this thought that it would be something easy to do, yanno? Felt like something I'd done before so I wanted to see if I could - what?"

"For one," Al said. "You did it again, even after Castiel said not to." He pointed at Ed angrily. "After I got, stood here and lectured about doing something similar like I was five fucking years old and you go around and ignore their direct orders!"

While loosening his tie, Ed paused. "I don't follow their orders," he said heatedly. "YOU were the one who said it wasn't magic in the first place, so they can damn well take it and shove it up their asses for all the hell I care. This isn't something that comes from demons."

"And suddenly you're the expert on it?" Al crossed half the room in an easy stride, looming slightly over his brother.

"What if I was?" The fire was lit in Ed's eyes. "I know more about it than you, and you don't like that, do you?"

"This isn't-" Al gritted his teeth. "The angel told you not to."

"And I care about that why?" Ed threw his arms out. "If they want to smite me they can go ahead and do it. What's the worse they can do to me, throw me back in hell?"

"Ed. " Al's voice was pained. "You also - you did it without a symbol, Ed, that can't be good-"

Ed blinked, halfway through a retort in his head when he realized what Al had said. He lowered his arms and looked at his hands. "Huh," he said. "I guess I did, didn't I?"

Al stared at Ed and Ed stared at his hands. Al's cell phone went off and he exhaled as Ed met his eyes. After a second Al fished his cell out and after a glance at the Id he turned from Ed, flipping it open. "Hey, Bobby."

He walked to the other side of the room, out the door. Ed knew he'd become the topic of discussion once the door clicked shut and closed his eyes, tugging the tie completely out of its knot.

Mechanically Ed stripped the suit off, hanging it in the closet. He hadn't even thought about it, this strange power ... alchemy ... was coming to him so easily and it seemed so right, so natural to use. But what was the cost? Was he the one going darkside, and not Al? "This shouldn't be so complicated," Ed said out loud.

There was no response.

*

Al sat in the library, information about all seven victims - the five from the past week and two from a few years ago - scattered about him. All the victims were men, over the age of eighteen but under the age of forty. They were all local, born in this small town; not a single one of them had ever lived anywhere else. That meant that there wasn't just one connection, there were half a dozen if not more. Al sighed, leaning back in his chair. Usually it was hard to find the constant thread between victims, but here? Two or three were buddies, one was a nephew of another victim ... there were just so many angles to be investigated in this town.

Ed and Al had parted on sour terms in the motel room, Ed to go talk to a few of the families and Al to the library to see what leads he could piece together. Ed hadn't spoken a word to him outside of questioning what Bobby had to say - which added up to a big fat zilch, but Bobby was if anything the master of digging up obscure information. He'd get back to them, Al was sure.

On the subject of Ed's sudden acquisition of power, Bobby didn't have much to say either, except to keep an eye on Ed. Al planned to do that anyway, but it made him more nervous that Bobby didn't have anything to go on. There was a brief biting moment of realizing that this was what Ed must feel like every time Al used his "power" and Al groaned.

He sat back, rubbing his face. He'd been staring at newspapers for hours - flipping through the actual hard copies, bound into large, musty books. His fingers and lower arms were stained with newsprint; he'd smell it in his sleep. The next task would be to hit up the microfiche machine to see if there were any other deaths further back, or if the one a few years back were the oldest they had on file.

Al glanced to the side and was surprised to see Ed navigating his way toward Al while chatting up one of the library aides who looked quite a bit like jail bait. "-horrible, absolutely horrible," Ed was saying by the time they got within earshot.

"He was always so nice, too," she was saying as she led Ed past the table Al was working at. "He would watch the Moore's house while they were away - they're my uncle's next-door-neighbors, that's why I knew him. He was a year or so behind me in school-"

Al's ears pricked up. Ed's appearance at the library wasn't just coincidence; it seemed the library aide actually knew one of the victims. Well, it being such a small close-knit community that wasn't much of a surprise. But, Al glanced down at his newspapers and the interrelating charts of people he'd been sketching out. Moore, that name rung a bell. He flipped to the information about the first victim, his name had been Hinks, but his wife hadn't taken his name at marriage. Her last name, though....

*

Ed was surfing the cable set when Al returned. He was back to his usual casual outfit and was lying on the bed with the remains of his lunch. Al paused in the doorway and rolled his eyes heavenward in a silent plea. "What'd you find out?" Ed asked without looking up.

Al turned the TV off as he passed; fortunately Ed didn't feel like being a dick at the moment and didn't use the remote to turn it on again. "Moore," Al said.

"Okay, good," Ed said sarcastically. "What else?"

"No, Moore, like the wife of the first victim, Eric Hinks," Al said, dropping his laptop and notebook on the table and folding into one of the uncomfortable chairs.

Ed snapped, pointing at Al. "That name's come up a few times," he said. "Angela was telling me about the Daniel's kid, he used to housesit for a Moore."

"Angela? " Al repeated mildly.

"So we check out this Moore chick," Ed said, spreading his hands. "But the question is, what do we check her out for? Demonic possession? Fuck, maybe she's like that Bond chick who just kills people for kicks with her thighs?" Al stared at Ed, who shrugged. "Look, the victims suffocated. Yes, with substantial bruising but there doesn't seem to be anything otherworldly besides that, so maybe she's just a serial killer with a slight Mrs. Robinson bent."

Al hesitated. Ed was speaking the truth - they didn't have real evidence of supernatural foul play, just a whole string of coincidences. Still, they'd operated on less before. "We should go talk to her."

"Yeah, I know." Ed nodded at the clock. "Still before five, if Moore's a regular working gal we might get an hour or two to scope out her house first."

"Sounds good," Al said, picking up the keys to the Impala that Ed had left on the desk. "Let's check it out."

*

Ed scratched his cheek and stifled a yawn. Surveillance was a time-honored tool of their profession, but that made it all the more boring. Al was the less imposing of the two for randomly wandering the streets, something Ed had never really understood. There was something puppy-dog about him that people took to and didn't mind answering innocent questions about the neighborhood; whereas with Ed they tended to regard him as some kind of serial killer about to eat their babies, or something.

He kinda resented that implication, but there really wasn't much he could do about impressions; and that's why he was in the car playing the part of the creepy stalker, sunglasses, two-day shadow and all; and Al was out on the streets fact-gathering.

Ed was tempted to flop over on the bench seat and get a few minutes of shut-eye but Al wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he dozed off while he was supposed to be watching, so he leaned back in his seat and kept watch on the sidewalk.

The Moore house looked absolutely, completely, and one hundred percent like it belonged in the neighborhood. Nothing strange about it at all, not even dark curtains hanging in the windows to obscure potential hoodoo ceremonies. All in all it looked so Stepford that its normal-ness itself was disconcerting.

Al smacked the roof of the car and Ed jumped a bit, having started to drift off anyway. He glowered while Al snickered at his reaction. "What'd you find out?" Ed bit out, taking off his sunglasses to rub one eye.

"Not very much. Moore's lived on this street since her husband died, didn't move out of the house but is really friendly, a nice person who moves in a lot of social circles. She did, however, inherit a tidy sum from Hink's life insurance when he died."

"This keeps sounding less and less like something we deal with," Ed complained.

"If," Al said. "If Moore is the killer we have no idea how she got into the other victim's homes. No signs of forced entry, remember? Plus the fact that two of the victims died next to their wives, who would surely have noticed a second woman in bed with them."

"Kinky," Ed muttered.

Al wasn't listening to Ed; he was staring off in the distance, a puzzled expression on his face. "Suffocation," he muttered, more to himself than Ed, then snapped his fingers and gestured at Ed. "Dad's journal," he said excitedly. Ed looked at him oddly and fished the leather-bound volume out of the glove box, handing it off to Al while his younger brother flipped through it excitedly. "The victims have all be ridden, Ed!"

"Poor bastards."

Al looked up at the sarcasm for a moment, then rolled his eyes and continued flipping through the book. "There was, ooh, was it a German fairy tale? Something I read in school and it sounded similar to something I remembered from one of Dad's hunts," he said. He glanced up at Ed as if Ed was supposed to spontaneously generate the information, and Ed shrugged at him.

"That helps me me narrow it down so much."

"No," Al said slowly. "I think, I think this was the week that Dad left you with Father Maxwell because you'd broken your leg taking a fall wrong."

"Oh," Ed wrinkled his nose. "Oh, shit I remember that. He was so pissed, and I was pissed about him leaving me at that fucking church for longer than over night. You know they made me go to Mass? " Ed shuddered.

Al glanced at Ed and Ed got the distinct feeling he was being quietly laughed at.

"ANYWAY," Al said, directing the flow of the conversation back to the topic at hand. "It was a female shape shifter - not one of the skin-walkers who shed, but one that shifts into things ... other than human." He found the page after a moment and pointed at it, then turned the journal over and passed it back through the window for Ed's consideration. "A mahr."

"A mahr?" Ed scanned over the information. "Like - wait, like a nightmare? You gotta be fuckin' ..." he said, shaking his head. "Thought they weren't killers, thou'?"

"Same here," Al said. "The one dad dealt with was just being an overall pest; I don't remember any casualties with that case." He frowned, leaning against the Impala as Ed flipped a few pages past and forward the entry on the mahr, looking for more.

"It's too easy," Ed said.

"I think it sounds like a mahr," Al said. "They ride their victims, and can enter a room through anything as tiny as a keyhole."

"So what do you think?" He ran a finger over the creature's weaknesses, all transcribed in their father's tight, neat script. "Fir, birch... doesn't give a particular metal that it's weak to, but I'd stick with iron and maybe silver as backup."

"Let's pay a visit to Ms. Moore tomorrow," Al said, nodding at the house down the street. A cab had pulled up, and an attractive, slightly older woman had hopped out, followed by another man. "Seems like she's entertaining tonight"

Ed woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. He twisted in his sheets - his dreams had been blood and chalk and eyes and hands again but aside from a few shaky moments upon waking he was good at suppressing them. Several deep, gulping breaths and he was fine.

Castiel was sitting on the foot of his bed, turning the knife that Ed usually kept under his pillow in his hands gently. Reflexively, Ed groped under his pillow for the knife but of course it was absent. "How'd you get that?" Ed's voice was scratchy with sleep.

"You were dreaming," Castiel said, placing the knife on the bed and leaning forward to look at Ed, hands folded.

Ed made a noise that could be taken as a confirmation. He dragged his arm across his forehead, wiping at the sweat gathered there. "You didn't come here to wake me up from a bad dream, did you?" There was an element of disbelief to his voice as he stared at the angel.

"Do you remember your dreams?"

Ed swung his legs out of bed so he was seated on the same side as Castiel and rubbed his face with both hands. "I try not to," he admitted quietly. The headache was back, quieter. Voices, voices he didn't recognize played in his subconscious until they faded out completely.

He glanced at Castiel, whose face was impassive as ever. "I...I don't think I'm dreaming of hell," he said. "It's too human."

Castiel shook his head. "I do not know what is going on," he murmured. "This strange power you've acquired, this fracturing of what needs to be and what is; it was not in the plan."

"I thought you couldn't see the future," Ed said snarkily.

"I cannot," Castiel said.

Ed made a disgusted noise. "So, what, you came here to tell me off for using 'that power', that it?"

"No." Castiel looked at his hands again, and then back at Ed, and he almost seemed hesitant, almost human for a moment. "This power... it is not a cursed or demonic thing. I don't want you to use it because I don't know what the cost is, but it is not the same as your brother's situation."

The silence hung for a moment as Ed processed this. He laughed, quietly, and then looked over to the other bed to make sure he hadn't woken Al. To Ed's surprise and dismay, Al's bed was empty and hadn't been slept in.

"That is why I am here," Castiel said quietly.  
Ed stood up in shock, glancing at the dresser. The keys to the Impala were still there, but Al's wallet was gone. "Wha-where has he gone?" Ed turned to Castiel, his stomach dropping out and all thoughts of alchemy dismissed from his mind with it. "He's with that bitch again, isn't he?"

Castiel's elbows were propped on his knees, his folded hands hanging between his legs. "He has been warned," he said. "Uriel is itching to have words with him again, but Uriel also likes the sound of his voice in the mortal sphere."

Why - why. Ed's stomach was twisting and churning. Why would Al go back to that bitch after everything that had happened so far? "I'm going to wring his neck," Ed announced, turning half in his place looking for his jeans. "I'm going to hit him in the head, drag him back here and wring his fucking neck."

Ed located his jeans and hopped into them, now looking for a shirt. Castiel watched him calmly. "The path he is walking down there is coming back from," he warned. "If he gets too far into the darkness nothing you can do will pull him back."

"Oh, fuck that," Ed hissed. "I'll march down into Hell myself and pull him back, just watch me. If I can face down the Gate for him, Hell will be a cakewalk."

He hesitated, one arm in the sleeve of his shirt, the other hanging loose. Castiel was staring at him, and not in his normal, piercing way. "Dean, what is the Gate?"

Ed blinked at him. The words had seemed natural falling from his lips but for the life of him he had no idea what "the Gate" actually was. "I...I have no fucking clue."

"Something you had to fight for your brother and you cannot remember it?"

"Shut up, just-shut up." Ed squeezed his eyes closed, trying to focus on the words. The screaming, the smell of charred flesh hanging in the air, blood, the swift numbness of intense pain all rushed him like a tidal wave. The door, it was huge, he couldn't stand before it, pushed to his knees the eyes the hands the mocking laughter-

Ed's eyes snapped open, he was breathing hard and dizzy, his knees weak and to his surprise Castiel was supporting him, keeping him upright, arms strong around him. "What," Ed breathed. "What the hell was that?"

"I do not know," Castiel did not sound happy with his own admission.

Bile was rising in Ed's throat, but somehow the comfort of Castiel's arms was keeping the wave of nausea at bay. After a long moment he shrugged out of Castiel's grip and the angel let him go, watching him cross the room unsteadily and then back again with precise blue eyes.

Ed glanced to Castiel, and then grabbed the keys to the Impala. "Where is he?" he breathed instead, deciding that Al was a better focus at the moment.

"Your brother is at a diner on the other side of town," Castiel said.

Ed rooted through his duffel but the demon-killing knife was not present. He snorted, Al had probably taken it, and instead slid a regular knife into his boot. He glanced up at Castiel. "You comin'?"

"I am always with you," out of the corner of his eye it looked like Castiel wore a soft smile, but when Ed looked at him his face was composed in its usual mask.

Ed groaned. "Spare me the sanctimonious bullshit, please; we both know what I meant."

The angel shook his head. "This is something between brothers, something best that I do not interfere in."

"Right," Ed murmured, and when he glanced back to where Castiel had been standing he wasn't surprised to see that the angel had departed when his back was turned.

*

Al was alone in the diner when Ed got there. It was the third diner he'd checked and, true to Castiel's word, on the furthest edge of town. He had no food in front of him, just a half-empty cup of coffee gone cold. Al doesn't even really seem to see Ed when Ed stopped beside his booth, so Ed sighed and slid into the seat opposite. It only twigs Ed a little that the bitch - that demon was probably sitting here only minutes beforehand.

The waitress stopped by and Ed ordered another coffee; Al finally looked up to see Ed. He doesn't look upset that Ed came to find him, just tired and Ed can commiserate. He feels tired down to his bones.

"How's Ruby?"

"Ed," Al said, the weariness layered in his voice. "I didn't ... she came to me, we just talked."

"Just talked," Ed said quietly. He somehow kept the snort out of his voice.

"Just talked," Al repeated.

"Well, now maybe you should talk," Ed nodded at the waitress who dropped his coffee off and topped Al's off with no prompting.

Al rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. "Ed... does it-" he hesitated, looked at the coffee, then caught Ed's eye. "It feels like I'm coming apart sometimes," he said quietly. "Sometimes out of the corner of my eye I see things that aren't there."

Ed didn't say anything, willed Al to continue with his silence.

"It's mostly reflections, I guess, I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on, maybe it's something to do with the seal..." Al swallowed and Ed takes a moment to take a sip of his coffee - hot and black and scalding, just the way he hates it but it gives something for him to focus on.

Maybe Al is right, maybe it all has to do with the seal. For some reason, Ed doesn't want to say "no, this has been going on for weeks now, welcome to my world," and simply nodded mutely. Maybe it does, maybe it has to do with proximity and Ed quietly clung to the hope that maybe if they stop the seal from being opened, everything will go back to normal again.

Too many 'maybe's.

They sat in the diner for an hour, barely talking but nursing their coffee. Al came back to the motel with Ed, leaving the car he must have hotwired in the parking lot of the diner. Ed put Al to bed and then sat on the edge of his own bed until sunrise starts poking its head through the blinds.

What was going on? 


End file.
